Five Times Percy Almost Proposed To Annabeth
by sunnywinterclouds
Summary: Finding the right moment is a lot harder than he'd anticipated.


1.

"I've always loved you in a tux," Annabeth says wistfully as she straightens his dark green tie and folds the lapels of his suit over it. "Very James Bond-esque."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," he grumbles, fidgeting with his cufflinks. Annabeth promptly slaps his hands in reprimand, which just makes his scowl even more pronounced. Not only does he look _stupid, _but his ridiculous outfit is really itchy and now his girlfriend is being mean to him. His only consolation is that Annabeth is dressed up, too, and she looks pretty damn amazing with her curls falling around her bare shoulders and jewelry other than her Camp Half-Blood beads strung around her neck. "I still don't get why we have to dress like this."

"It's your mom's five year anniversary celebration, Percy. Your presence is kind of mandatory." She fusses over him a bit more, running her hands over the material of his suit and attempting to flatten his hair even though, after eight years of knowing each other, she's well-aware that it's not going to get any better than this. It's oddly endearing to see Annabeth so out of her element, freaking out because she doesn't know exactly what to do for once. It's about time, honestly.

"Yeah, yeah, but the monkey suit? Not necessary. We're not going to a gala or anything, right?"

"I think you look handsome," Annabeth says indignantly. "How stupid would you look showing up in jeans when everyone else is wearing a tuxedo?"

"No stupider than usual," is his all-too predictable answer. Annabeth just rolls her eyes and gives his tie one final tug before stepping back to admire her work.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you probably won't have to wear another one of these until our wedding." He's glad he's not eating anything, because he almost definitely would have choked on it. Annabeth just nods approvingly at him and adds, "You clean up nice," like she hasn't just dropped some huge life-altering bomb on him. Like he's not having a totally silent panic attack right now.

It's the perfect time, really. There's a ring two feet away from him in the drawer of the bedside table, exactly where it's been for the last year, ever since his nineteenth birthday. They're already all dressed up in the appropriate attire for the occasion, and Annabeth has just as good as admitted to the fact that she expects for him to propose one day. Wouldn't it be nice to just reach over, find the ring, get down on one knee, and totally make her night? And his. Definitely his night, too.

"I'm just going to freshen up real quick and then we'll go, okay?" she says, still apparently completely oblivious to the thoughts she's sent racing through his brain. He absentmindedly wonders how on earth she could ever hope to make herself look better than she already does before nodding and watching her walk off towards the bathroom.

He should do it. He should just suck up his pride and his fear and his doubt and surprise her when she comes out by making everything one hundred percent official. They've said their 'I love you's, they've had sex, they live together. Marriage is the next logical step, right? And he's had a ring for a long time now, just in case the perfect opportunity arose, and this is it, isn't it? Well, it's not particularly romantic, and it's not exactly a special day for them or anything, but he feels confident and Annabeth thinks he looks handsome and they're both strong, mature adults who know what they want. He wants to marry Annabeth.

They're young, yeah, but they've also been through the Titan war and six months of him being missing with amnesia and Tartarus and the doors of death and – even worse – _college._ They've proven time and time again that they're more than willing to die for each other, which Percy figures is more than a lot older couples can say. This is good. This is _right._

Except his suit is really itchy and he doesn't quite feel like himself at the moment and if he proposes now, won't he be kind of stealing the spotlight from his mom and Paul if he announces it over dinner? He could always just keep his mouth shut but, let's face it, no he couldn't. No way.

"You ready?" Annabeth asks, her purse slung over her shoulder casually. As beautiful as she looks in her green sleeveless dress, he kind of prefers her in sweatpants and his Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

It's not too late.

"Ready," he says, shooting her what he hopes is a dashing smile as he links his arm through hers. It's a good moment, a better one than any that's been presented to him so far, but it's not quite right. It doesn't matter. They've still got time.

It's not like he's not going to get another chance.

2.

He doesn't feel quite so confident and convinced of this a few months later, when they're on the corner of Park Avenue fighting a particularly vicious hellhound. Percy hates fighting hellhounds. How is he supposed to kill something that looks just like his dog? Mrs. O'Leary is probably his best friend, other than Grover, obviously, and stabbing her look-alike in the face is kind of a bummer most days.

"Focus, Percy!" Annabeth yells from his right. He snaps back into focus and dodges the dog's snapping jaws. Ugh. Much worse breath than Mrs. O'Leary's. He runs across the street towards his girlfriend, wincing at the resulting honks that follow. How is that they manage to notice an averaged-height guy crossing the road but not a giant dog breaking building windows? He will never understand mortals.

"This one's tough," he pants, frowning at his ripped shirt. It was a good one, too. Feelings of sympathy for the monster dissipating in three, two…

"No kidding," Annabeth mumbles, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she crinkles her eyebrows together in what he's learned to be her thinking face. He likes her thinking face. Well, he likes her face, period, but the expression she makes when she's contemplating something really hard is one of his favorite looks on her. It's amazing that she can pull it off, really, with her torn clothes and her messy ponytail and the beads of sweat running down her neck, but he's starting to think that Annabeth could look like a supermodel even if she had Medusa's hair.

It strikes him, then, that this could be the end. Well, no, not really. It sure would suck if they died from a hellhound attack and not a Titan specifically targeting Percy as the demigod of the Great Prophecy. Percy's not really into irony, and he's pretty sure that the both of them are way too awesome to let an oversized puppy eat them for breakfast when it's past dinner time. Plus he's got a research paper due in American History tomorrow, and there is _no way_ he is going to die after spending all morning brushing it up to perfection.

But that's not really the point. The point is, life is short, and he and Annabeth have a much higher risk than most people he knows of dying horrible, gruesome deaths while still young, and if he doesn't make it to his next birthday, well, he wants to go knowing that Annabeth is his.

He knows she would totally object to be referred to as _his_, because this is the twenty-first century and women aren't property and she can kick his ass any day and would be more than happy to perform a demonstration, but he wants it anyway. He wants Annabeth to be his. More than she is already. He wants to marry her.

He's always wanted to marry her, but there'd always been _time._ There'd never been a rush. There's still not one, not really, but it feels like it now. It feels like he needs to hurry.

"Annabeth," he says, and she snaps out of her thinking face to look at him. She's beautiful, and his heart stutters in his chest as he opens his mouth to ask her that one terrifying question. "Will you –"

But then there's an awful pain as something slashes across his chest, and an even more awful scream as he hits the ground. He thinks the scream might be his, actually, but he's also pretty sure he hears a bit of Annabeth's voice in there as well. He doesn't remember there being any water in the street, but he's definitely lying in a pool of something warm and wet. Did the hellhound knock over a fire hydrant, maybe?

Annabeth doesn't come to his aid right away, which makes him think that she's busy with taking care of the definitely-not-anything-like-Mrs.-O'Leary dog. His head is pounding, but it's nothing compared to the searing agony that's spreading across his abdomen. Talk about ruining the moment.

And then suddenly he's being flipped over onto his back, and someone's shoveling chocolate squares into his mouth and urging him to chew. He does so, slowly, because his mouth feels like sandpaper, and when he opens his eyes Annabeth is hovering over him, tears running down her cheeks.

"You okay?" she asks, her voice trembling, and he wants to ask her. This is just _more_ proof of how short life is, how easily either one of them could just be cut off so easily, and he'd already made up his mind earlier so why is now any different? It would be romantic, wouldn't it? Taking what just might be his last, dying breath and grasping her hand weakly and dramatically asking her to do him the honor of agreeing to become his wife? If he does it now, she can't say no. Not when he's lying on the sidewalk covered in what he thinks might be his own blood.

But that's why he can't ask her now. She can't say no. He wants Annabeth to say yes because she wants to, because she's ecstatic that he's asked and really, truly wants to marry him, not because she's so relieved that he's alive that she's willing to say whatever it is he wants to hear to make him happy. And she's crying. He doesn't want her to be crying when he proposes. Unless they're tears of joy, of course. He can work with tears of joy.

"Fine," he chokes out, and he means it. He's going to be fine, because even though he's not proposing now, not tonight, he's definitely going to do it soon. And there is no way he's going to die before that.

And there's no way he's going to let that American History paper go to waste after spending so much time on it.

3.

"We've been through so much together, and I love you more than anything. You're my entire world. I know it sounds cheesy, and I know you hate cheesy things, but it's true. I want to be with you forever. So… will you marry me?"

"Yes," she sobs, and throws her arms around his neck as she kisses him. The entire restaurant breaks out in applause, except for Percy, who glares at the happy couple with a passion.

Of course he'd take Annabeth to fancy restaurant, in a suit that's actually comfortable, the ring in his left pocket, wine on the table, his college-student wallet weeping at the thought of what the bill would look like, only to be upstaged by some random other guy proposing first.

"That's sweet," Annabeth says, smiling over in their direction. Percy scowls and slouches down in his seat. Well, he can't propose _now._ Not after that guy. Everyone will think he's just copying him! And Annabeth will probably think he's only doing it out of competitiveness or something. The point is, that stupid asshole over there just _ruined_ his night and he is very angry and will likely be giving the waiter a very small tip for hosting such an awful evening. And because he's a _college student._

"Real sweet," he replies irritably. His interest perks at Annabeth's expression, though, which can only be described as… wistful? It'd better be wistful, or this entire night will have been a waste. He can't afford to spend this much money on a dinner that he gets absolutely nothing out of. Other than the presence of Annabeth's company, of course, which he obviously enjoys immensely but would prefer to treasure at home surrounded by pizza and video games.

"Kind of an overdone place to get engaged, though, huh?" she comments, and Percy's head perks up. Perhaps this night can be saved after all.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Like, who wants to get proposed to in a fancy restaurant? Especially one as expensive as this one." She whistles through her teeth at she reads through the entrée list. "I know it's our anniversary, Perce, and you're really sweet, but you _do_ realize we're broke college students?"

He grins. "Been telling myself that all night, Annabeth. But you're worth it." He loves how he can still make her blush after five years of being together.

"Still," she says, folding up her menu and placing it down on the table. "It's _your_ birthday, and I know you hate these places. Plus, I promised that you wouldn't have to wear another suit until… a while. You want to get out of here?"

He smirks at the way she's nervously wringing her hands. It's ridiculous how much love he can feel for one person's endearing little habit. "You bet."

Percy smiles at the newly engaged couple as he and his own true love exit the restaurant. He feels like he should thank him for saving him from what could have been a disastrous night, but he's not really sure how to carry it out without alerting Annabeth to what he may or may not have been planning. Plus, the guy looks pretty damn happy already, and Percy's pretty sure that interrupting the love fest going on at the table would probably just upset him more than anything else.

Annabeth's totally right, like always. They just aren't the fancy romantic restaurant type. They can love each other just as much in their apartment, on the Great Lawn, even in the Underworld, and he kind of wants his proposal to be like that. To symbolize that they don't need violin music and overpriced food to get engaged. Which isn't to say that he wants to ask her to marry him over the body of a dying friend – he has the feeling she might punch him in the face for that – but he wants it to be somewhere else.

Plus, he's pretty sure that their waiter was a Fury, so he's more than happy to get out of there as soon as possible and be totally stingy with the tip.

4

Percy's just glad he's somewhat inherited a bit of his mother's cooking skills ask he pulls the pot roast out of the oven and waves the steam out of his face. He's also quite pleased at the fact that he's managed to come up with a pleasant compromise that falls between the whole fancy-restaurant/depths-of-Tartarus setting. Must be all the time he's been spending with Annabeth.

This feels right. He's in the kitchen of their tiny apartment, waiting for Annabeth to come home from her evening class as he dies everything but the pot roast blue. The wine, the mashed potatoes, the gravy – everything is drenched in his favorite-colored dye. He thinks that gives it a very personal, Percy-esque vibe. It makes it special. And Annabeth has expressed time and time again how endearing she finds his obsession with blue food.

"Percy? You here?" aforementioned person calls out to the apartment. Percy freezes. She wasn't supposed to be back for another half hour! "And what's that smell?"

Before he can decide how to react to the situation, other than with blind panic, Annabeth strides into the kitchen. She looks shocked at the layout in front of her, but a wide smile spreads across her face only moments later.

"Percy? What's this? I thought you had class?"

Well, he can't very well tell her that he'd skipped it to come home and set up his proposal site, now could he? "Uh. Cancelled. So… I thought I'd make dinner. Blue dinner." He feels bad about lying her, but it's a white lie, anyway, and the smile she's giving him pretty much makes up for his guilt.

"Blue dinner," she repeats, still grinning, and he nods dumbly. "Seaweed Brain," she says affectionately, crossing the kitchen to throw her arms around him. He does a mental victory dance. This is going better than he'd thought it would already, despite her unexpected early arrival.

"So, uh, what are _you_ doing back early?" he asks as she buries her face in his shoulder contentedly. If she keeps breathing him in like that, he might just give up the whole dinner thing and ask her right here and now.

"Class let out early," she mumbles into his shirt, hardly audible as he runs his fingers though her hair. "This is the perfect thing to come home to."

He hopes the proposing thing will make it more perfect and not totally ruin it – fingers crossed. "You hungry, then?"

"Starving," she answers, still not moving from his arms. "I love you."

After five years of hearing it, you'd think that the resulting heart stutter would eventually go away, right? Wrong. "You, too." Usually, he'd be totally content to just hold her in his arms against the kitchen counter for the rest of the night, but not when he's got a plan. "Food?"

"Uh-huh," she says. Not pulling away from him.

"Sit down," he says, his heart pounding for reasons other than her proclamation of her feelings. Why is he so nervous? She's just told him that she loves him. Why wouldn't she want to marry him? "I'll pour you a glass of wine."

"Mmm-kay," she says, finally detaching herself from him. She looks really tired, but also really happy and content. He likes that he can make her feel like that.

This is the moment of truth. He fills two glasses with the blue wine, his chest fluttering like crazy as he turns around to make sure Annabeth isn't looking so that he can add the finishing touch. She's not, so he reaches into his pocket and drops the ring into her glass.

It's cliché, he _knows_ that, but he also knows for a fact that sometimes Annabeth seriously loves cliché things. Plus, the wine is blue, so that makes it a little more original, right? He's pretty sure that not many people have put the ring in _blue_ wine.

"Here you go," he says, placing the drink carefully in front of her. His heart rate rises to critical levels as she takes a sip and… places it back down uneventfully.

Right. She's going to have to finish off the entire glass before she finds the prize. Of course. He wishes she'd just start gulping it down like crazy, but instead she seems intent on making conversation.

"You'd better hope the food coloring doesn't stain our good set," she teases, for some reason talking about the glass holding the ring but not drinking from it. He clenches his hand into a fist under the table as he fights the urge to snatch the glass out of her hand and call the whole thing out completely. That's Percy Jackson for you – brave enough to risk his life to save the world but absolutely terrified of proposing to his girlfriend.

"Blue makes things taste better," he offers weakly, and Annabeth just laughs at him before – _yes!_ – taking another sip of her wine. Just a sip. Why does she have to sip things? He hates that.

He's going to have a heart attack if he doesn't calm himself down _now._ He needs alcohol, stat, but –

Oh. Right. _Duh._ He's got a glass of wine, too, after all. Plus, maybe if he starts drinking, she'll follow suit.

With that in mind, he takes a long gulp of his wine. Blue _does_ make things taste better, and he savors the way it's going down his throat until something _else_ goes down his throat and he starts choking.

"Percy?" Annabeth asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Percy holds up a hand and dashes to the bathroom, pounding on his chest as he tries his best to cough up what is obviously the most epic mistake he has ever made in his entire life.

Eventually, the engagement ring lands in the sink, looking kind of gross but no worse for wear. He holds it under the tap and rubs hand soap on it as he silently curses himself and his entire life.

Maybe, he thinks, it's a good thing that he mixed up the glasses. If Annabeth had been the one choking on her own engagement ring, even someone as bad at math as himself would be able to calculate the odds of her saying yes.

"Percy?" his sadly-still-not-fiancée asks as she knocks on the bathroom door. He can hear the laughter in her voice. "Did you just… choke on your wine?"

"Um," he says, his throat raw as he pockets the now-clean ring. "Yeah."

The door is still closed, but he can easily envision her bent over in laughter at his expense. "So much for blue making everything taste better, huh?"

He puts on his most mockingly-devastated face as he exits the bathroom. He hates to admit it, but he's kind of glad the proposal thing didn't go right. As nice as the setup had been, the moment hadn't been right. He still doesn't know what the right moment will _be,_ not even remotely, but he knows it wasn't the one that just passed.

"I think what the world is trying to tell me, Annabeth, is that I should never try to be romantic again. It doesn't end well. So you'd better go out there and enjoy your dinner, because it's the last one you're ever going to get from me."

Annabeth's eyes are sparkling when she calls him a seaweed brain and leans in to kiss him sweetly. As he cups her face in his hands, he thinks that despite everything, this night could definitely be counted as a success after all.

5.

Percy sighs and leans against the side of the car as Annabeth opens the hood. He feels a little unmanly about the fact that she's the one acting as the mechanic in this situation, but out of the two of them, she is most _definitely_ the more equipped to deal with car engines. He'll just look like a jerk if he insists he do it instead, and then he'd look like an idiot when he miserably failed.

"No good," Annabeth says, exhaling loudly. "We're gonna have to call a tow."

"Great," he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. Just his luck, right? They'd borrowed Paul's ever-resilient Prius for their trip up to Camp Half-Blood for winter break, and here it was, breaking down for the first time Percy can ever remember. Typical. "How far away do you think we are from the nearest AAA station?" he asks as pulls out his cell phone and dials the number.

"At least half an hour," Annabeth answers, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. They're both tired and homesick after months of being away from their summer camp, and he'd been really looking forward to seeing the Poseidon cabin again after so long. His girlfriend, however, looks so bummed out that he decides to momentarily abandon his own sulkiness.

"Come on," he says, after hanging up the phone, closing the hood and climbing on top of it. Annabeth gives him a look but takes his hand, anyway, and graciously allows him to pull her up with him.

They're a far ways out of the city, and the skies are scattered throughout the sky, completely visible, instead of being blocked by smoke and smog. The moon's not full, but it's close, and Percy's glad it's slightly waned because he totally wouldn't be surprised if the world decided that werewolves exist, too, and that this was the perfect time to send one after him.

"Wow," Annabeth breathes out next to him, and, as corny as it sounds, he can't help but think that she's a hundred times more beautiful than the sky above them. How did he get so lucky?

It's not really that cold out, and they're both wearing heavy winter jackets, but Annabeth snuggles up next to him as close as possible anyway. They're reclining against the windshield of the car, Annabeth's back pressed into his chest, and the crickets are chirping and he's so comfortable and the ring is in his pocket and _oh my gods_ it's absolutely perfect.

He was going to propose at Camp Half-Blood, maybe by the side of the canoe lake or in the dining pavilion where they had their two first kisses as a real couple, but this… this is better. His heart doesn't even stutter at the thought of asking. He's… he's at _peace._

This is the moment, and nothing can ruin it. Annabeth's hair smells like lemons, and her hands are twined gently with his as they stare up at the sky together. They're a good dozen miles from camp and much further away from the city, and the weather is wonderful and their closeness is making him dizzy and nothing can stop him now.

Maybe this was all he needed in the first place. He and Annabeth alone, the night peaceful, the world beautiful and full of promise. He's looking up at an incredibly rare starry sky, and there's not a single person in the entire world he'd rather share this moment with.

There's not a single person in the entire world he'd rather share any moment with, ever.

He's not nervous. His breathing is still steady, his hands are playing with her own. He's just… happy. He's just excited.

He's going to ask her. There is absolutely not one thing in the entire universe that's going to stop him from proposing now.

"Percy?" Annabeth whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Will you marry me?"

And all Percy can think is, he _so_ should have seen that coming.

**just realized I had like five Percy-almost-proposes-stories and I could totally merge them into one story and I thought, why the hell not? these were all written at different times so if the writing style varies, well, there's your answer.**


End file.
